


Wedding Gift

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [200]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 08:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14184801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPGCitadel.





	Wedding Gift

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).

"Do you know, are you allowed to make your own wine at home? I mean, like, privately?" Ryan asks, glancing away from the gorgeous northern California countryside to look at his lover. "I know you're allowed to brew your own beer, here. Which we should totally do, by the way. And I'm pretty sure operating your own liquor still is illegal. But maybe..." he trails off, checking out a roadside sign for yet another vineyard. He doesn't blame Sam for ignoring half his questions at this point. After all, Ryan's been hyper as fuck all day, practically vibrating with excitement in anticipation of Sam's honeymoon surprise, whatever it turns out to be. Being cooped up on an airplane for six hours - even a lovely private chartered airplane - and now being stuck in the car for a long drive, it's pretty much the worst thing for him right now, considering his energy level.

He idly wonders if Sam is ready to throttle him yet.

"As far as I know you can," Sam says. "You just need a license if you're planning on selling it." Normally he wouldn't know this shit but since he had to declare whether they were going to continue producing wine when he bought the vineyard, he actually does. "You want to stop any of these places?" he asks, nodding at the next sign. "We could do a tour while we're here." Get Ryan out of the car and some of that nervous energy out of Ryan.

"You really want me drinking right now? I bet they're all tasting tours," Ryan tells his lover, grinning.

Sam laughs. "Maybe not." Given how kissy Ryan gets when he's had a few. "It's not that much farther anyway."

"It?" Ryan raises an eyebrow. "Is it... a hot air balloon ride over the valley? A romantic picnic lunch in a vineyard? Maybe..." Chewing on his bottom lip, he attempts to think of a guess he actually hasn't made yet. He thinks he's run the gamut.

"Give up already," Sam says with a grin, reaching over to tangle his fingers in the back of Ryan's hair. "You're not going to guess."

"All right." Ryan pretty much resigned himself to that eventuality a few hours ago, anyway. But he's anticipating the surprise so happily that he just couldn't keep quiet. "You're awesome, and I love you," he murmurs, watching his lover with adoring eyes. "But I'm trying to be subtle about my feelings, all right?"

"Yeah." Sam's grin widens, his eyes sparkling, grateful Ryan's busy looking at him when they pass the sign for the vineyard. "Here we go though," he says, pulling into the next drive, the huge wrought-iron gate closed, an intercom set into the stone columns bracing it. "Villa Sorriso."

Ryan looks up and smiles. "Wow, what a gorgeous house," he says, already craning his neck for a better glimpse. "Is this one of Citadel's properties?" He knows the kinky bigwigs have got quite a few, squirreled away as it were. "Can we stomp grapes in the nude?"

"Maybe," Sam says, completely ignoring the first question as he pushes the button on the intercom. "Hey. We're here." The gates swing open and Sam drives through, past some of the vineyards and up the long winding pathway towards the house which is mostly hidden behind trees and strategically placed bushes.

Shaking his head, Ryan snorts a laugh at that arrogant almost-imperial 'We.' As if Sam owns the place.

Christ. The place is even bigger than it looked online and even Sam wonders what the fuck he was doing when he chose it. He parks the car in front of the door and jumps out, giving the man who comes out to greet them a wide easy smile. "Hey," he says, shaking hands. "It's good to finally meet you in person."

"You too," the other man responds, with perfect but accented English. He's in his mid-fifties with black hair, dark skin, about the same height as them, slightly weathered but still attractive.

"Rafe, Ryan Kwanten," Sam says, making introductions. "Ryan, this is Rafe Casales. He's the manager here."

"Hi, really nice to meet you," Ryan says, shaking Rafe's hand in turn and smiling. "This place is absolutely amazing, and we've only just seen the driveway. Do you love it here?" It must be a very cool job, he thinks. Lots of hard detail-oriented work, but what an office... "Is your accent Spanish? Did you grow up on a vineyard?" He needs to shut himself up, he's pretty sure; not everyone is as patient with his burbling mood as Sam is.

"Si. I grew up in the south of Spain. My parents owned a vineyard there." Rafe smiles at Sam. "Did you want a tour of the house or grounds?"

"Would it be possible to tour the grounds tomorrow?" Sam asks. "It's been a long flight and I think I can manage to show Ryan the house."

"Tomorrow would be fine," Rafe says, glancing between the two men. "It gets fairly hot in the afternoon, so maybe late morning? Ten o'clock?"

"Ten's great," Sam says, grinning as Rafe hands him over a set of keys. "Thanks."

"My number is programmed into the house phone, so if you need anything, don't hesitate to call."

"We won't. Thank you. We'll talk more later," Sam says, shaking the man's hand again and watching for a moment as he makes his way to his truck. "What do you think?" he asks Ryan, nodding at the house.

"What do I think, are you kidding?" Ryan is all smiles and trying to look everywhere at once. "Are we really the only guests?"

Sam grins. "Well, yeah, but we're not exactly guests," he says, watching Ryan closely. He holds out the keys. "It's yours."

Ryan takes the keys automatically, but looks at Sam in confusion. "What? What's mine?" There's no possible way Sam can mean...

"The whole thing," Sam says. "It's your wedding present."

_Struck dumb_ \-- it's an interesting turn of speech, and Ryan's pretty sure he's been in the state before. But this... this is a level of shock comparable only to just a few days ago, when Sam surprised him with their wedding. "Mine?" he whispers tentatively, staring into his lover's eyes. He looks around, trying to absorb the vastness of such a gift, so big it's an abstract concept. "...Why?"

"Because you loved the place in Hartford so much," Sam says with a light shrug. "I know there's not snow here, but I figured we could visit more easily. There's over 600 acres, 20,000 square feet in the house, olives and grapes, the place does its own wine. It's even got its own lake."

Ryan takes all that in, nodding like a broken marionette. "Um." He has to ask. "Are you dying?"

Sam blinks hard, staring at Ryan for a minute before he gets it. "Nooo... I just thought it would make you happy," he says. "Having our own place to get away to, with lots of room and privacy."

"Of course it makes me happy," Ryan replies instantly, worry flashing across his face that he might have made Sam think otherwise for even a second. "This is incredible! It's gorgeous! And a lake? And...? Thank you," he says finally, stepping in and sliding his arms around Sam's waist. "Thank you so much."

"Don't thank me yet," Sam says, kissing Ryan firmly on the mouth. "Open it up and see what you think. Especially the kitchen."

Ryan still feels pretty shaky, a little scared by the direction his thoughts went. But his excitement is building. "Okay," he murmurs, grinning crookedly. He sorts through the keys on the ring Sam gave him, and tries one at random in the lock. Then another. Then a third, and he pushes open the front door onto a beautiful marbled foyer with a soaring cathedral ceiling.

"I've only seen the place online," Sam says, more than a little amused. "But the pictures didn't even do it justice."

"Oh my god, Sam, you just bought it out of the blue like that?" Ryan asks, staring around. Of course, Sam could hardly have done otherwise; how could he keep a visit a secret when Ryan's always with him? "This is so gorgeous," he breathes, his voice hushed in awe as they cross the vast foyer. Each room they come to is equally stunning, but each with its own unique materials and design. When they step across the threshold to the kitchen, though... "Ohh, Sam." Ryan sighs and looks around in a daze. Beautiful and light-filled, with a double range and sub-zero freezer and a gorgeous wooden butcher's block of a kitchen island. Ryan points at the last. "I'm going to let you fuck me over that." Let, ha.

"Tie you down for the day," Sam murmurs, wrapping his arms around Ryan from behind and kissing the nape of his neck.

"Mmm, hell yes," Ryan agrees, laying his hands over his lover's and tipping his head back to rest against Sam's shoulder. "How many rooms does this place have?"

"Including baths and half baths, maybe thirty," Sam say, mouth moving over the side of Ryan's throat.

"Thirty?" Ryan sighs, beginning to melt beneath Sam's lips. "That's an awful lot of Saturday nights."

"Yeah." Sam grins, sliding a hand down Ryan's front and cupping him through his jeans. "More than half a year. And that's not even counting the farm, the pool, the lake, the vineyards..."

"Well, shit. We might have to start doubling up. Once a week, that... that'll hardly be efficient," Ryan points out, but he's already losing the thread of conversation. He rubs against Sam's hand, his cock swelling hard behind his zipper.

"Brace yourself," Sam orders, shifting them a little towards the island.

Ryan groans and splays his hands against the wood. This island is even sturdier than the one in their kitchen back home, and considering how hard they've used that one... With a whimper of anticipation, Ryan stifles the urge to get his jeans open and his ass bared. "Please," he whispers, "please let me get naked for you, Sir."

"No." Sam opens Ryan's jeans, shoving them down just under his ass. Frees his own cock, lining up, the head against that tight slicked pucker and drives inside, slamming his hands down over his boy's to keep him in place.

Ryan shouts, the sound nearly echoing off the walls. He's not really prepped, didn't take the time to fix himself up properly once they arrived at the airport this afternoon, and _fuck_ , in hindsight, that was a really really stupid mistake. Tears well up immediately in his eyes, a reaction to the sheer pain flaring through him. He spreads his thighs as wide as he's able.

Fuck yes. That shout goes straight to Sam's cock and he tightens his grip on Ryan's hands, sinking all the way in with a few more brutal thrusts, any and all resistance overcome.

Sometimes, Ryan loves this. Craves it. Sometimes, it's all he can do to keep himself together. Today is one of the latter times; apparently he wasn't prepared for this mentally, either. But even as his tears leak out he doesn't fight, because this is Sam, whom he trusts more than anything. And anything he can give Sam, he will.

Sam doesn't even try to hold back. Once the path eases, he pounds into Ryan, fucking him open until his orgasm slams through him, his cock spurting hot and heavy inside his boy, filling him.

With a groan Ryan works his muscles, milking his lover for every drop. Fuck, yes. _Mine_.

"You okay?" Sam murmurs, pulling Ryan up from the island and wrapping his arms around him.

"Mmm. Oh, yeah," Ryan mumbles, stretching his arms over his head and then back, looping them around Sam's neck. "I'm yours. It's awesome." He smiles and brushes his lips over Sam's cheek, feeling thoroughly claimed in this moment.

Sam smiles. "Want to see the rest of the place? Or should we head upstairs? Check out the master bedroom?"

"Does it have a gorgeous master bath?" Ryan's pretty sure that's a rhetorical question. "Because I'm dying of curiosity to see everything, but I should probably clean up a bit before we go roaming around outside."

"Why's that?" Sam asks with a grin. "No one's going to see you."

"There's no one else here?" Ryan pulls away just enough to see his lover's face clearly. "Just Rafe, and us?" And Rafe left, right.

"Yup. There's workers, but they're only here during the season and only during the day. Out in the fields."

"When's the season?" Ryan asks, gently pulling away from Sam and hissing as his lover's cock leaves his body, rubbing oversensitized flesh. "Do you have a map?"

"Late August, I think, until October, and there's one around here somewhere. I have it on the laptop but that's not very useful," Sam says with a smile, tucking himself back into his jeans and helping Ryan right his clothes.

"What if we get lost? It'll be really cold when the sun starts setting." Ryan turns and leans back against the kitchen island, smiling at his lover.

"Then we'll stay close enough to see the house," Sam promises. "And tomorrow we'll do the whole tour with Rafe."

"All right." As if Ryan was ever going to say no, anyway. He takes Sam's hand. "I can't wait to see more."

"What about the rest of the house though? First or leave it til later?" Sam asks. Hell, Ryan hasn't even seen the library or the theatre or the wine cellar.

"Thirty-something rooms, you said?" Ryan shrugs, and kisses his lover, his grin escaping. "I want to see everything."

"I'll show you the highlights," Sam says, the very spirit of compromise. "Or it'll be dark by the time we get outside." He grins back at Ryan and pulls him through the kitchen to the other side of the house and down the stairs to the basement, home of the huge wine cellar. "Alex'll be so fucking jealous when he sees this," he says, opening the door to the theatre beside it.

"Oh my god, our own private movie theater?" Ryan turns in a circle, taking in all the details with awe. "This is so fucking cool! I declare tomorrow night... Porn Marathon!!!"

"Home movies or the pro stuff?" Sam teases, reeling Ryan in for another kiss. Christ. Two years and he still can't keep his hands off his lover.

"The film quality of our home movies may leave something to be desired, but the content is much more exciting than anything I've paid to watch," Ryan tells him, grinning. "That wine cellar was half empty, though. Should we begin laying down new bottles now, to crack open at our fiftieth anniversary gala?"

Fuck. Fifty. Sam's silent, calculating in his head. They're only thirty-six. Fifty would put them at eighty-six. Which could happen.

The sudden silence makes Ryan take a step back. "We don't have to worry about that now," he assures his lover quietly. "Let's go see what the views are like from the second floor."

Sam nods. "Okay," taking Ryan's hand in his. "I'm not freaked out or anything," he says, as they head back upstairs. "Okay, maybe a little, but only because fuck, _old_ people have fiftieth anniversaries. Parents, grandparents. But I guess we'll have kids at some point," he adds with a chuckle, shaking his head at himself. "And then we _will_ be parents and grandparents." Fuck. Okay. Now he really _is_ kind of blowing his mind.

"Mmm." Ryan gives his lover a sage and somber nod. "And old people having sex is _disgusting_ , everyone knows that. I can see why you'd be concerned."

"Now who's the pervert," Sam says, giving Ryan a look. "I wasn't even thinking of that."

"I wasn't thinking it either, I was telling you that I understand your worries. It was sympathy!" Ryan grins as they reach the landing.

Sam just laughs. "When we're old and gray, I'll still fucking your brains out and it won't be gross."

"Right. Because then we'll both be old," Ryan agrees with a happy nod. He heads right for a pair of double doors, figuring it must be the master bedroom. But when he pushes them open he doesn't even look at the room; he's magnetically drawn straight to the huge windows overlooking a gorgeous blue split-level swimming pool, the sloping vineyard beyond that, and the majestic mountains framing it all. "Oh, my god."

Sam comes up beside him, smiling, thrilled with his lover's reaction. The confirmation that he did right. "There's matching balconies through the French doors," he says, pushing aside the curtains currently covering them. "For when you want outside, but don't feel like going downstairs."

It's difficult to tear his gaze away from the view, the incredible intertwining of earth and water and sky. But somehow after a moment Ryan is able to look at Sam instead. There are tears in his eyes, again.

"You okay?" Sam asks, mildly alarmed. Maybe it's all too much.

Ryan nods, not quite ready for words. He wraps his arms around his lover and clings tight, resting his head on Sam's shoulder. Breathing him in, trying to memorize these feelings of overwhelming love and security. "I just..." he tries, but can't even complete the sentence. "You."

Sam nods too, just holding Ryan. "I love you so much," he whispers.

There's so much Ryan wants to say. He just... can't. Not right now. So he hugs his lover tighter, and loses himself in the comfort of Sam's embrace.


End file.
